Ice
by NaomiP
Summary: Abby and Luka are snowed in together, with no electricity. Season8 Will the isolation bring them together again, or destroy their friendship? COMPLETE in 14 chapters. Preceeds, though not directly, "Circles." Rating for mild sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one came to me a few months ago, but since I was trying to get "Light" finished, I wasn't able to work on it at the time. (I don't like writing more than one fic at a time.) It takes place during the time Abby is staying at Luka's apartment in S8; set, probably, a few days after "Secrets and Lies." 

I don't own Luka Kovac. I don't own Abigail Lockhart. I don't own ER. I do own this story.

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A creaking noise. Almost a groan. Abby wasn't really awake, but she heard it. Must be the sofa, she thought. The leather must be creaking beneath her weight. But it had never done that before, and she'd been sleeping here for a week now.

The noise came again, and Abby opened her eyes. The apartment was dark; very dark. And very quiet. No light from the street, the faint red glow of the microwave clock was dark.

Abby looked at her watch; its light came from a battery. 5:20. She had a shift; the watch alarm wouldn't beep to wake her for another 10 minutes, but she might as well get up. Though, with the power obviously out, would the el even be running? She could ask Luka to drive her in, though he didn't have a shift today, she knew.

She sat up. Outside of the blanket, the room was freezing. Of course; electric heat. How long had the power been out? Grabbing her robe, Abby quickly put it on, and she slid her feet into her slippers. The blanket draped over her shoulders completed the ensemble, and she went to the window.

Maybe, she thought, it was just a localized outage, just the one block. If it was, the el would be running, and she could go to work without bothering Luka. Regardless of the situation elsewhere, the hospital, with its own back-up generator, would have power. There would be heat, and coffee.

Opening the blinds, Abby looked out -- and stared. It was very dark outside. No moon, no stars. No glow from the street lights or the many typically illuminated business signs on the block. No light from any window. No headlights, because there were no cars on the street. But, even in the pitch blackness, Abby could still see the hard glitter of the ice. It coated everything as far as she could see in either direction. She could also hear, very clearly now, the creaking noise that had wakened her. It was the wind blowing on the ice covered world. There was another noise too, the faint hiss of the sleet that still fell from the black sky.

How was she going to get to work? The el wouldn't be running in this, even if she could manage to walk the two blocks to the station. She couldn't ask Luka to drive her in this kind of weather. What she needed, she thought, were ice skates.

The bedroom door opened. "Pretty, isn't it?" came Luka's quiet voice. Abby's eyes had adjusted to the dark sufficiently to see that Luka was standing there dressed only in a tee shirt and sweat pants.

"Lovely," she agreed, sarcastically. "Aren't you freezing?"

"A little bit chilly."

"I don't suppose you have a gas water heater, so I can at least get a hot shower."

"Nope, electric." Luka sounded entirely too cheerful.

"Is there anything in this apartment that _isn't_ electric?"

Luka was searching in a kitchen drawer. The scrape of a match, and the warm light, first from the match itself, then from the candle wick. "Sure," said Luka. "There are candles." The glow lit his smiling face. "And there is always body heat."

"Very funny." Abby sighed. "Besides, I have to go to work."

"How do you plan to get there?"

"I'm still working on that one," Abby admitted. "But they have a generator. It's worth the effort if it will mean heat and light and coffee."

"Come over here. It's damn toasty here by the candle. Come warm your fingers."

"I _have_ to go to work."

"Be sensible, Abby. Nobody is going anywhere. Sick people can't get to the ER, and the night shift isn't going to be able to leave." Luka lit another candle from the flame of the first one. "Looks like we're stuck here together. I have lots of warm clothes if you don't have enough."

"No, I'll just go back to bed. It was almost warm under the covers." She managed a smile. "How long do you think it will take to heat water for coffee over the flames of two candles?"

Luka didn't answer, he headed back for the bedroom, taking the candles with him. Abby lay down on the now chilly leather and wrapped herself in the blanket. A moment later she felt something heavy and soft fall on her. "Stay warm," Luka said, and went back into the bedroom again. Abby wrapped the second blanket around her, and went back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Coffee. Abby smelled coffee. Poking her nose out from the covers, she took a sniff. Definitely coffee.   
  
Was the power back on? It was daylight, though still quite dark. The windows were small, and it was very cloudy out. The room was still cold, even colder than before, but Luka was standing by the sofa, holding two mugs, out of which steam rose, bearing that tantalizing scent.  
  
"Where did you get coffee?" He couldn't really have made it over the candles, could he? Had he gone out? No, the coffee shop down the street wouldn't have had power either.  
  
"I made it."  
  
"How?"  
  
"My little secret. Just enjoy it." He held one mug out, and Abby took it gratefully, and sipped. It was a little weak, and not as hot as she might have liked, but beggars and choosers and all that ....  
  
"Instant?" she couldn't help asking in surprise. Luka usually prided himself on his coffee. She couldn't actually drink the stuff he usually made, but it was useful for stripping varnish, and would get anyone through a 12 hour shift -- or three consecutive ones. This stuff was ... just coffee, and mediocre coffee at that. But it was hot, and seemed to contain some caffeine.  
  
"Don't expect miracles." Luka motioned with his free hand. "Can I sit down?"   
  
Abby sat up, making room for Luka on the sofa. "How _did_ you make this?" she asked again. "The power _is_ still out, isn't it?"  
  
"It is. Probably will be for a couple of days at least. I went out earlier, or rather, opened the door and looked out. There's about 2 inches of ice already down, and more still falling."  
  
"So, how did you ..."  
  
"I've lived without power before, Abby. For months. You learn a few tricks." He was still smiling, but, for an instant, the memory darkened his eyes.  
  
Of course, the siege. Vukovar. Abby suddenly noticed the faint smell of smoke in the air. She hadn't smelled it at first, over the far more interesting coffee-scent. On the window sill she saw a cast iron frying pan with a broiler rack set over the top. On top of that was a sauce pan. A makeshift grill. The room was colder because Luka had opened the window a crack to let the smoke out.   
  
"What did you burn?"  
  
"Some old magazines. I've got enough to keep us in coffee for a few days at least. I knew all those old JAMA's would come in handy someday." He grinned. "I had to take the battery out of the smoke detector, so be sure you don't smoke in bed or anything."  
  
"Don't suppose you can heat enough water for a hot bath."  
  
"Looking for miracles again? Maybe enough for a sponge bath. With a _very_ small sponge."  
  
Abby sighed and got up. The coffee had definitely helped, and, despite everything, she felt a little more cheerful. "I'll live." Selecting her warmest outfit from the suitcase of clothes she'd brought over earlier in the week, she went into the bathroom to change.   
  
No light, of course. The bathroom, like most apartment bathrooms, was windowless. After trying to manage in the pitch darkness for a few moments, Abby gave up and opened the door leading to the bedroom to let in some light. And a voice startled her.  
  
"Need something?" asked Luka. He'd gone into the bedroom himself, and he was changing too.  
  
"Just some light to see by," Abby said. "Sorry." She closed that door and opened the living-room one again. She felt her face growing warm. She shouldn't be embarrassed, she thought. She'd seen Luka's body countless times before.   
  
But that had been _before_. When they had been lovers. Now they were ... something else. What were they now? Ex-lovers, certainly.Co-workers? Definitely. Friends? Maybe. Luka certainly seemed to think that they were friends. Or maybe he was hoping to become lovers again? Why else would he have offered her a place to stay? He'd been the perfect gentleman the entire time, but who could know what he was thinking.  
  
It wasn't as if they'd actually talked about it. But then, they never talked about much, did they? Even before this, when they had been lovers, they had never talked much. Funny how the physical intimacy, the comfort in each other's company hadn't been accompanied by emotional intimacy.  
  
Abby was dressed. She brushed her teeth, hastily splashed some cold water on her face and called it 'washed'.  
  
When she emerged from the bathroom, Luka was in the kitchen, also dressed, a little more warmly than before. Black turtleneck, jeans, black leather jacket. The thought came to Abby's mind, quite unexpectedly, that he looked _very_ nice in the candle light.  
  
He was standing in front of the fridge. "For breakfast we have yogurt, bread, yogurt, cold pizza from last night, yogurt, some left over Thai -- but I don't remember how long it's been in there, so that might not be the best choice --- yogurt, cheese ... or yogurt. I could try making some eggs, but we should conserve the fuel. It will probably get a lot colder before it gets warmer."  
  
"Yogurt sounds good."  
  
"Blueberry, cherry, or lemon?"  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Luka handed her a carton of blueberry yogurt and a spoon, and helped himself to a couple of slices of cold pizza.  
  
Taking her breakfast, Abby wandered again to the window and looked out. The city looked strange -- creepy. Ice covered everything, glittering with a hard light. But stranger was the stillness. This was usually a busy street, cars going up and down it at all hours, pedestrians hurrying along the sidewalks. Now though, there wasn't a sign of life. A few windows glowed faintly with the light of candles and flashlights, but most were dark. The businesses were all locked up tight. There were no cars, no people.   
  
She couldn't help shuddering a little.  
  
"I listened to the radio," Luka said softly. "It's supposed to stay cold for at least three days, and the sleet isn't expected to stop before noon."  
  
"Three days? We can't stay here for three days?" Abby felt her heart sink.  
  
"We can't do anything else." 


	3. Chapter 3

The sky was the color of lead. Heavy clouds so low they seemed to be resting on the rooftops, still weeping sleet and ice. The apartment was dark, a sort of greyish twilight. Luka had blown out the candles.   
  
"I don't have very many," he'd said. "Better to save them for evening, when it will be really dark."  
  
But this left it too dark to read. Without power there was no tv, no music. The batteries in Luka's portable radio were low, so he just turned it on intermittently to check the weather report, which, of course, never changed. Cold; sleet expected to continue most of the day; power out across the entire region.   
  
Abby sat silently, huddled in her heavy coat. The cold didn't seem to bother Luka. He appeared quite comfortable in his turtleneck and light jacket.   
  
She had called into work on her cell phone, and found that Luka had been right. The night shift was stranded there, and there hadn't been a new patient since about 2 a.m. "Just stay warm," Jerry had told her.  
  
The silence was growing oppressive.  
  
"One good thing about the cold," Abby said. "The stuff in the fridge won't spoil very quickly."  
  
"We won't starve," Luka agreed.  
  
"Just freeze to death, which doesn't sound much better."  
  
"Didn't you grow up in Minnesota -- the big white north? It's colder there than here."  
  
"Great white north," Abby corrected. "Yeah, it was cold outside. But we did have heat in our house." At least most of the time, she remembered. There had been the occasional week when Maggie had neglected to pay the gas bill and the heat had been switched off. But when you are 10, that kind of thing is an adventure. At 32, it's something entirely different. "We were also the only family in the state, I think, that wasn't into ice fishing."   
  
"Ice fishing? What's that? Catching ice?"  
  
Abby had to laugh. "No, it's a bizarre form of entertainment involving sitting on a frozen lake, in front of a very small hole, trying to convince the fish to leave their reasonably warm homes to join you on the subzero surface. I never quite understood the point."  
  
"They would eventually end up in a nice warm frying pan, right?"   
  
"Yeah," Abby agreed. "And I guess the fishermen usually ended up in a nice warm tavern."  
  
"If it gets much colder in here, _we_ might end up doing a little ice fishing," Luka said. He went over to the fish tank. The pump had stopped, of course, and the light was out. The fish were still alive, but swimming, Abby thought, a bit sluggishly.  
  
"Will they die?" she asked.  
  
Luka shrugged. "Probably. Tropical fish don't do well in the cold."  
  
"Maybe we could heat some water, pour it into the tank?"  
  
"Or maybe peritoneal lavage, with some warm saline?"  
  
Abby couldn't help laughing again at the image, though it wasn't really funny. The poor fish.   
  
Luka added a pinch of food to the tank. "At least they can get a good last meal," he said. "Die happy."  
  
Another few minutes of silence. Luka was fiddling with the controls on the Walkman. Abby just sat. "Don't you have anything we can do? Anything that doesn't require light?" she finally asked.  
  
Luka smiled. "Just the usual activities that people tend to do in the dar We'd keep each other warm too; generate lots of heat."  
  
"That isn't funny," Abby said, even though she knew he was joking. Or she assumed he was joking.  
  
"Or," Luka said mildly, "We could talk. That doesn't need light or heat."  
  
Abby shrugged. "What do you want to talk about? I think we've exhausted the possibilities concerning the weather."  
  
"Pick a topic. I'm easy."  
  
Abby stuck her hands in her pockets. It couldn't be much below 50 in here yet. Why did indoor cold always feel so much _colder_ than outdoor cold? She tried to think of something to say. And the question popped out.  
  
"In Vukovar, how long were you without power?"  
  
"A few months. It wasn't as cold as this though, even though it _was_ pretty cold for the season. Still, by the time the real cold weather set in, it was all over. By mid-winter I was back in Zagreb."  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"Staying alive." Luka rose abruptly from his seat and went into the kitchen.   
  
So much for _that_ conversation thread, thought Abby. Not that it had been a very good one ...  
  
Luka opened the fridge and took out a bottle of beer. "Want one?"  
  
Abby shook her head. "No thanks." She did want one. Badly. Though she wasn't quite sure why. Still, starting to drink at 11 a.m. was probably a bad idea. She'd wait until at least noon, she thought.  
  
--------  
  
The day dragged by more slowly than any day Abby could remember. She smoked. There were only 6 cigarettes left in the pack, and no real hope of getting more, so she rationed them out, and hoped that the combination of boredom and nicotine withdrawal wouldn't make her nuts before this was over.   
  
At noon Luka lit another JAMA, and they had soup and instant coffee for lunch.  
  
The apartment grew steadily colder. The radio said that it was 20 degrees outside and dropping. Eventually even Luka added another layer of clothing.  
  
They talked on and off, but mostly just sat, as each attempt at conversation fizzled out.  
  
And the ice continued to fall. 


	4. Chapter 4

The gloomy half-light began to darken further as the endless day moved towards what promised to be an equally endless evening. Luka lit the two candles again. They really didn't make the room much brighter, but the reddish glow of the candles looked a little more pleasant than the gray twilight had been. And looking at that light, Abby thought she could almost pretend that it was warm in here.   
  
"So, what do you want for supper?" Luka asked. The first word either of them had spoken in the past 20 minutes. Abby ground out the very short butt of her cigarette. Only 3 left.   
  
"I don't care."  
  
"I think there is some hamburger in the fridge. We should probably eat it soon. Would hamburgers be ok?"   
  
"Sure." Abby went to the kitchen, while Luka tore up a magazine and took it over to the grill. She heard the scrape of the match and the crackle as the paper started to burn -- and then Luka swore. "What's wrong."  
  
"Window's frozen shut." Luka banged his fist along the edge of the frame, hoping to loosen it, but the ice held it fast. He swore again, or at least Abby assumed that the Croation words that spilled from his mouth were swearing.  
  
"If you lived in a nice Gold Coast penthouse with a fireplace, we wouldn't have this problem," Abby commented. "Still, I don't think we'll asphyxiate in the time it takes to broil a few hamburgers." Bringing the shaped hamburgers over to the grill, she went on, "Do you have any buns?" And then, as the smile began to play around the edges of Luka's mouth, "Don't say it, Luka. Just don't say it!"   
  
Luka cleared his throat and moving his hand over his mouth for a moment wiped, literally, the smile from his face. "No. I'd planned to use the meat for pasta sauce. We do have bread though." He put the burgers onto the grill. "No room for the coffee pot," he noted. "We'll have to wait for the burgers to finish cooking to make coffee."  
  
"It's getting late in the day for coffee," Abby said. "I'll just drink beer." God, she needed a beer. "Do you want one?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Finally the fire was down to ashes again, and the dinner was cooked. Luka served it up and sat down across from her at the table. He smiled at her and Abby found herself smiling back as she remembered other candlelit dinners. Other romantic dinners. Then she gave herself a mental shake. _This_ was hardly a romantic dinner. It took more than candles to make romance. It took two people who actually liked each other. And she ... well ... she still wasn't sure what she felt about Luka.  
  
The setting itself was hardly one that encouraged romance either. Neither one of them had showered in two days; Abby didn't even want to think what her hair looked like. Luka hadn't shaved since yesterday morning. Not that the thickening stubble looked _bad_ of course ... especially in the candlelight.  
  
'Stop it Abby!' she told herself. What's wrong with you? Must be the beer talking. She'd already finished most of the bottle before the hamburgers had finished cooking. She turned her attention to her meal, so she wouldn't have to look at Luka. Two rather sooty looking hamburgers, and two equally blackened slices of bread.   
  
Taking a bite she couldn't help making a face. "Don't quit your day job, Luka."   
  
"I guess I should have put them in a pan, hmmm? I thought they'd taste better 'flame-grilled,' you know?"  
  
"I think flame-grilling assumes the use of charcoal, _not_ paper."  
  
Oh well, the food was relatively hot and, by the time Abby was down to the end of her second beer, she didn't even mind the taste. As she rose to get herself a third, Luka said "Go easy on the beer, Abby."  
  
"We've got plenty. There are 4 more in the fridge, and a whole unopened case on the counter."  
  
"That's not what I mean. Alcohol plus cold equals hypothermia. Remember?"   
  
Abby sighed and put the bottle back. "Fine. Whatever." She wandered to the window and looked out. "Hey, it's snowing!"  
  
"This is news?"  
  
"Not sleeting. Snowing." Hard pellets of snow.  
  
"Which probably just means it's getting colder outside."  
  
The candles were starting to flicker, the wicks drowning in the puddles of wax. One of them went out.  
  
Abby and Luka looked at each other for a moment in the dim light. "I only have four more," Luka said. "We need to save them. It's early, but we should probably just go to bed."   
  
"Yeah, I guess so," Abby agreed.   
  
There was an awkward hesitation, then Luka said "And I think we should --- I think you should sleep in my bed with me."  
  
"Luka ..."  
  
"Just sleep," Luka clarified. "It's freezing in here. You may have noticed that this place isn't very well insulated. It's going to be even colder by morning. I own two blankets. You can sleep on the couch with one, and me in the bed with the other -- or I can be a gentleman and let _you_ have the bed while I take the couch. Either way, we'll both be miserable. Or we can be sensible and share the warmth. And be a little less miserable."  
  
'That's your opinion,' thought Abby. But she just shook her head firmly and said "I just think it's a really bad idea."  
  
"Fine. I'm just trying to be logical here." Luka grabbed one of the blankets from the sofa and turned on his heel, heading for the bedroom. He seemed irritated for the first time all day. He paused at the door, "You can go ahead and change in here. I won't be back until morning." The door slammed behind him. He'd left her the remaining candle.  
  
Abby changed quickly into her nightgown, and put her coat on over it. She lay back down on the sofa and wrapped herself in the blanket, just as the candle flickered out, plunging the room into darkness.   
  
After a few minutes she sat up again and groped on the coffee table for her cigarettes. Remembering Luka's warning about smoking in bed, she swung her legs around and sat up. Not that she was likely to fall asleep. It wasn't even 8 o:clock. She lit the cigarette and slowly inhaled the warm smoke into her lungs.  
  
What _is_ wrong with you? she asked herself again. What are you so afraid of? He isn't exactly going to ravish you against your will. Then, aloud, "Don't be such an idiot."   
  
She finished the cigarette then got up and draped the blanket over her arm. Walking over to the bedroom door, she knocked. 


	5. Chaper 5

"You can come in," Luka said, in response to Abby's knock. "I'm decent." She opened the door.  
  
"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking," Abby said. "I'm freezing."  
  
"No problem." The room was too dark for Abby to see Luka's expression, but his voice was as mild as ever. He moved over to one side of the bed, making space for her. Abby spread the second blanket across the bed, and got in beside him. But not too close.  
  
"Thanks. Even with the sheet over it, that leather is really cold."  
  
Luka didn't answer, and Abby couldn't think of anything more to say. How many times had she slept with Luka? But never in this bed. It had always been in her bed, or in the hotel. He hadn't even bought a bed yet when it had all fallen apart. She felt strange lying here. Strange, even with the physical and emotional space between them. Or, perhaps, because of it. After a few endless minutes, he asked "Are you getting warmer?"   
  
"Yeah, much warmer." And then the thought popped into her head that she'd probably be even warmer with Luka's arms around her. A thought that she pushed away irritably. This was crazy, she didn't even _like_ Luka that much any more! He was doing her a favor, that was all, and she'd accepting because she had no other choice. That was all.  
  
It was still very early, and Abby wasn't tired. She stared into the darkness for a while, then turned her head to look at Luka. His eyes were also still open, staring into his patch of darkness.  
  
After a while he said, "Just like old times?"  
  
"Not quite. I think we used to wear fewer clothes." If _he_ could make flirtatious jokes, she could too. She could pretend to be relaxed; comfortable with this impossible situation.  
  
"That's true." A little more silence. "So, what are we going to do tomorrow?"  
  
'What do you think?' thought Abby. 'We're going to sit and look at each other for about 14 hours, and I'm going to go crazy.' But she said, "I don't know. Go skating?"   
  
A few more minutes of awkward conversation and forced jokes, interspersed with long silences.   
  
Abby looked at her watch. Not even 9 o:clock. When was she going to get tired enough to fall asleep?  
  
"What the hell happened?" A sudden question from Luka.  
  
"What?" The question startled her, coming out of nowhere.  
  
"Us," Luka asked quietly. "What happened to us?"  
  
"Ummm... we broke up?"  
  
"I thought it was Carter. I thought it was all about Carter, but it's been months, and you're not with him. Carter's with Susan."  
  
"Not anymore. _They_ broke up too; the other night."  
  
"But he's still not with you." Luka still spoke quietly.  
  
"That's true." What did he want her to say?  
  
"So ... what was it then? I know I screwed up, Abby ... but maybe ...."  
  
"Luka, this isn't the best time or place to talk about this."  
  
"So, what _is_ the right time or place?"  
  
"I don't know. But not now." Not, Abby thought, while I'm lying in bed with you ... trying very hard to not think about the fact that I'm lying in bed with you. "Let's just go to sleep, ok?"  
  
----------  
  
Abby woke up suddenly --- from a very ... interesting .... dream. Luka was in the dream, and she was smiling, even as she woke from it. As she came fully awake she realized that she was warmer than she'd been all day. And there was something scratchy on the back of her neck. Luka was lying pressed up against her back, with his face against her neck and his arm around her. Just like old times. This was how Luka had liked to sleep. Before. They'd often joked that there was no point in having a queen sized bed, when they always ended up inhabiting only 20% of it anyway.  
  
"Luka," she whispered. She tried to slide away from him, but she already perched at the edge of the bed. Had probably been trying to move away from him in her sleep. Or maybe not.  
  
"What?" Sleepy. Or asleep.  
  
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"  
  
Abby removed Luka's arm from its position draped across her body, and managed to turn over without falling out of bed. Luka was blinking at her sleepily, still not quite awake.  
  
"I knew this was a bad idea," she said.  
  
"Sorry," mumbled Luka, finally awake enough, apparently, to realize just what the problem was. "I guess I'm trying to stay warm."  
  
"Sure." Abby sat up. "I'll just go back to the sofa, ok?" She wasn't going to try to analyze, at least not right now, if her discomfort was from not liking what had just happened, or from liking it.  
  
"No, you don't have to do that. It won't happen again." Luka retreated to his side of the bed again. "Just go back to sleep."   
  
Abby sighed and lay down again. After a minute she turned to look at Luka, but he had his back to her. "I know it wasn't your fault," she said softly. "It was just ... awkward, you know?"  
  
Luka didn't turn to look at her. "I'll be more careful. Now go to sleep."  
  
She shut her eyes and tried to return to sleep. It _had_ been a rather interesting dream, but she knew she wouldn't be able to return to it, and wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Jesus!"  
  
Luka woke to see Abby standing at the window, hugging herself against the cold. It was daylight. The room was still pretty dark -- it always was, but outside the window he could see blue sky, and a harsh light.  
  
"Stopped snowing?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. And the future's so bright you gotta wear shades?"  
  
"What?" He joined her at the window, and couldn't help hugging himself as well. It was _cold!_ "Wow!"  
  
The sky was blue and cloudless. The glare was blinding. The sunlight reflected off the ice, and the occasional patch of drifted snow. It wasn't often you got to see white snow in Chicago, Luka thought. Usually it was filthy from car exhaust and dirty shoes within minutes of hitting the ground. But the thick coating of ice on the street ensured that there were still no cars and no pedestrians. Nothing to spoil the beauty of it.  
  
Luka touched the window pane. "Still pretty cold out though." He grabbed his jacket "I'll go start the fire and get breakfast going. You can dress in here."  
  
The living room was even colder than the bedroom. It was freezing; almost literally. Luka could see his breath. He needed to talk to the landlord about the insulation.   
  
He tore up a couple of magazines and started the fire. The window still wouldn't open. So much for leaving it burning for a while to warm the place up a bit. A saucepan of water for coffee. Maybe he'd try to make eggs this morning.   
  
Luka heard Abby come into the room. It was hard to miss, she was stamping her feet as she walked, presumably to warm them. "How do you want your eggs?" he asked her.  
  
"Fried, sunny side up. And don't lecture me about salmonella. And your fish are dead."  
  
Joining her by the aquarium, Luka looked into the tank. Yes, definitely dead.  
  
"Are you going to pronounce them?" Abby asked lightly. "Or maybe try to resuscitate?"  
  
"I don't think so. Maybe they'll be dinner tonight." Luka spoke lightly too, but he couldn't help sighing a little. How many _people_ in Chicago would die before the weather broke? People with MI's and strokes who couldn't get to the hospital in time. People who'd been out on the roads when the storm had started, and had gotten into accidents. People who were less sturdy and Abby and himself and would freeze to death in their own apartments.  
  
He returned to his kitchen tasks, adding more paper to the fire (it burned away much too quickly), getting the eggs and frying pan. Abby quickly set the table and got a beer from the fridge. She joined him by the fire.  
  
"Abby, it's 8 o:clock in the morning."  
  
"So? I have one cigarette left. I'm cold, I'm bored ... and you're _not_ my mother."  
  
"Thank God for small favors," Luka quipped, and they both laughed. Maybe a beer with breakfast wouldn't be a bad idea.  
  
Two beers, two cups of coffee and three eggs later, Luka got up to clear the table. He wasn't drunk and neither was Abby, it would take way more than two beers to get either of them even tipsy, but some of the tension seemed to be gone this morning. Abby seemed to be a better mood than had been since the storm began.   
  
"I'm sorry about last night," he said. "I really wasn't trying to start anything."  
  
"Forget it, ok? Just don't do it again." Abby wandered over to the window again and looked out. "I'm going stir-crazy in here. Want to go out for a bit?"  
  
"Go out? Like where?"  
  
"Just outside. Get a better look at the world; get some fresh air, see daylight for a change."  
  
"It's pretty cold out there," Luka said doubtfully.  
  
"It's pretty cold in here too. Don't be such a wimp." Abby was already putting on her gloves and scarf and hat. She was already wearing her coat.  
  
"I'm not much of a skater," Luka said, but he got his own outdoor gear and his keys, and opened the apartment door.   
  
The hall was very dark, and he and Abby had to make their way carefully down the stairs to the street door -- which didn't open.  
  
"Frozen shut?" Abby asked.  
  
"Probably." Luka threw his weight against it, and heard the ice crack. He tried again to open it and, with just a little more muscle, the last of the ice broke free and it opened.   
  
After the dim light in the apartment, and the even darker hallway, the glare was blinding. Luka had to cover his eyes with his hand until they adjusted to the light.  
  
"It's gorgeous," Abby said softly.  
  
"It is," Luka agreed. Beautiful but treacherous, he thought. Kinda like Abby. And they still seemed to be the only people alive in the city. Still no cars, and no other people brave enough, or stupid enough to venture out.  
  
Abby took a cautious step out onto the stoop -- but not cautious enough. Her feet went out from under her and, before Luka could grab her, she was sitting on the top step.  
  
"Are you ok?"   
  
"Yeah. My butt's well padded." Abby was laughing. She tried to regain her footing, but only succeeded in slipping down another step. "I think I need a little less padding and a little more Velcro," she said. "Or a heating pad. It's cold down here."  
  
"And _I'm_ beginning to think that this was a really bad idea." But Luka was laughing too. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was the pleasure of seeing Abby in such a good mood. "Come on, I think it's time to go back inside."  
  
"Easier said than done," said Abby.  
  
Luka held onto the door frame and reached out towards Abby. "Ok. Just grab my hand."  
  
She couldn't quite reach him, just a little too far away. Luka stretched as far as he could go --- and lost his grip on the slick door jamb.  
  
His body hit the ice at an awkward angle. He had no way to stop himself from sliding -- to the steps, and down them. He hit the sidewalk. Hard. And slid another few feet before finally coming to a stop. 


	7. Chapter 7

Abby rubbed her sore hip. It had all happened in an instant. Luka's hand had slipped from the door frame, and he had fallen down the steps, taking her with him. She was still sitting, but on the sidewalk. And it no longer seemed to be so funny anymore.  
  
Luka was still lying on his back, a few feet away from her.  
  
"Are you ok?" she asked.  
  
"I think so." He sounded a little breathless. "Just got the wind knocked out of me." But he still made no attempt to sit up. "Are you?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little bruised. Are you sure you're ok? That was a pretty hard fall." All Abby could think of was how she was going to get him help if he was badly hurt.  
  
"I'm ok," Luka repeated. "Just let me get my breath back." After a minute Luka started to sit up, and winced in pain.  
  
"What's wrong?" Abby asked quickly.  
  
"Bruised my elbow. It's ok." He smiled at her, but it wasn't very convincing. Abby looked at the door, only a few steps away. It might as well as been a mile, she thought.  
  
"How are we going to get back inside?"  
  
"Very carefully?" Obeying his own words, Luka got, very carefully, to his knees. Abby couldn't help noticing that he wasn't using his right arm at all. He looked for a long minute at the steps. There was a handrail, but it was as slick as the pavement, and would be of little help in getting them back up safely. "I'm open to suggestions," he finally said.  
  
"Got any salt in your pocket?" It wasn't much of a joke.  
  
"'fraid not. We need something to roughen the surface a little." Luka started to reach into his pocket, then switched hands, reaching across his body to take his keys out of his right coat pocket.  
  
"You're really hurt, aren't you?"  
  
"I don't know," Luka admitted. "It hurts. We'll check it when we get inside." He tossed her the key. "See if you can use that to chip at the ice a little; make a patch we can walk on."  
  
He must be hurt, thought Abby, if he wasn't doing the work himself. She scratched and chipped at the ice with the key, making, as Luka had asked, a small patch on each step. It was hard work, and she was almost warm when she finally reached the top step. Luka, who was just sitting and watching her, must be freezing though. It couldn't be much above zero. Fahrenheit.   
  
She helped Luka to his feet and slowly, carefully, they made their way successfully back to the door. Once inside, Abby closed it behind them and they climbed the dark stairs back to the apartment.  
  
The room felt almost warm, at least compared to the outside. But Abby knew she'd be cold again soon enough. She threw herself down on the couch. "I think I would sell my soul for a hot bath about now," she said. She was sore all over.  
  
Then she remembered Luka. He had unbuttoned his coat and was trying to get it off without bending his right arm. As sore as she felt, he must be hurting much worse, she knew.  
  
"Let's check that arm," she said, and helped Luka get his coat off.  
  
"It's ok. Just a bad bruise, I think." But he couldn't help wincing, and drawing in a sharp intake of air as she carefully pushed his sleeve up over his elbow. And she winced a little herself. Luka's arm was already starting to swell, and turn some interesting colors around the elbow.   
  
"Can you bend it?" she asked. Luka tried, and winced again.  
  
"I can, but I don't think I want to."  
  
"Wiggle your fingers? Make a fist?"   
  
Luka obeyed, then said, "Hey, who's the doctor here anyway?" He smiled at her again.  
  
"Shut up," Abby said, and smiled back at him as she completed the exam. "Neuro and circ are intact, but it looks like it might be broken."  
  
Luka shook his head. "I don't think so. Just sprained or bruised. I'll ice it for a while. It will feel better. See if we have any ice ..." and he couldn't help laughing a little despite the pain.  
  
Abby had to laugh too. Amazing what a little ethanol would do. "Haven't we had enough ice for one day?" But she went to the fridge. The ice maker of course wasn't functioning, and there were no ice cube trays in the freezer. "No ice," she said, and started laughing again. After a moment though, the look of pain on Luka's face, a look that he was doing his best to hide, made her sober again. "You need to get it x-rayed."  
  
"With what? The handy little x-ray machine I keep in the bathroom?"  
  
"We'll call 911. There have to be ambulances running by now."  
  
"Probably. And they're needed by people with problems a lot worse than a sore arm. If it still hurts when the ice melts, I'll get it checked then."   
  
"I'm sorry, Luka," Abby said. "We shouldn't have gone out."  
  
"It's not your fault. I went out too, remember? Are you sure that you're not hurt? You took a good spill too."  
  
"I'm just sore. Nothing that a long hot bath and a couple of hours of massage won't cure."   
  
"Neither of which are available. Though I could try the massage. I do have one arm available for use."  
  
"No thanks." Abby started for the kitchen again, where the case of beer beckoned. Lacking heat or massage, maybe a little booze. Then she stopped herself. 'No,' she told herself firmly. 'You've had enough beer for one morning.' To cover herself, she headed again for the fish tank. "So, what are we going to do about the fish?" They were still floating. Still very dead.  
  
"What did you have in mind? Fried? Broiled?"  
  
"Ha ha. I was just wondering," Abby explained, "how long we're going to leave them floating in the tank."  
  
"Toilet's in the bathroom. Feel free."  
  
Beneath his lighthearted words, Abby detected an undertone of something in his voice, but wasn't sure what it was. Irritation? Sadness? Or maybe just the pain from his arm.  
  
"Don't you feel bad about them?"  
  
"About what? They're fish, Abby, just fish. They were relaxing to watch in the evenings, but they didn't fetch the newspaper, or keep me warm at night ..." Luka trailed off and was silent for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I feel bad. I was responsible for them, you know?"  
  
He rose abruptly from his seat and went into the kitchen. He didn't hesitate before taking a bottle from the case on the counter. "Open that for me, would you?"   
  
"Weren't you the one saying yesterday that we shouldn't drink too much in the cold?"  
  
"My arm hurts. I don't have anything in the house for pain but Tylenol -- and alcohol." He sounded more than a little bit testy now, and Abby opened the bottle. He took it over the window and stood there looking out, taking long swallows. Abby tried to guess what he was thinking -- she was sure it had little to do with fish. 


	8. Chapter 8

Abby sipped her coffee. They weren't talking again. Luka had finally let her wrap his arm, and put it in a sling. It didn't seem to do much for the pain, but it did keep him from moving it too much.  
  
They hadn't eaten much lunch, but Luka was working on his third beer. It also didn't seem to be doing much. Earlier, the alcohol had relaxed them, but now, Luka seemed to be growing more broody, snippier, with every bottle. Which just made Abby feel worse too, made that case of beer look more and more attractive. It was, after all, all her fault.  
  
The bright day made it possible to read, at least close to the windows, but Abby wasn't in the mood, and neither, apparently was Luka. Luka just sat and nursed his beer. And Abby just sat, trying to think of something she could do make him feel better. Something to take his mind off his pain.   
  
She finally got up and went again to the aquarium. The fish were still there, of course. Neither Abby nor Luka had yet gotten around to doing anything about them.  
  
"We could give them a proper funeral," she said.   
  
Luka just looked at her for a minute. "What?"  
  
She shrugged. "It's something to do. I mean, something more interesting than staring at the wall all afternoon. Now, if you have a better idea ...."  
  
"No, I don't," Luka said. He sighed, then smiled a little, for the first time in quite a few hours. "Sure ... what the hell." He joined her by the fish tank. "This should be interesting."  
  
"I'm not promising that," Abby replied. "Just that it will beat what we've _been_ doing." Going to the kitchen for a bowl, she went on, "Do they have names?"  
  
"Nine year olds name fish, Abby."  
  
"Well, if we're going to do this right, they need names."  
  
"So, name them."  
  
"They're not my fish!"  
  
A wicked grin. "Ok ... umm ... that one's Carter ...."  
  
"Luka!" But Abby couldn't help laughing. This _was_ going to be fun.  
  
"Ok, ok. Let's see ... Jedan ... Dva ... Tri ... and ... Cetiri."  
  
"Which means what? Or shouldn't I ask?"  
  
"One, two, three, and four." He shrugged. "It's not like they care, Abby."  
  
"True. So, which is which?"  
  
Luka reached into the tank and took out a fish. "Jedan." He grinned at her again. "Remember that." Dropping the fish into the bowl she held, he reached for another. "And this one is Dva ... damn this water's cold."  
  
"Which probably explains why they are dead."  
  
"And this one is Tri. And Cetiri." He looked at her. "Now what?"  
  
"Into the bathroom, of course."  
  
Abby sat down on the bathroom floor, and Luka plopped down beside her. And she couldn't think of what to do next. The initial idea had just popped out, and she realized that she was making this up as she went along. Luka looked at her, a smile playing around the edges of his mouth.   
  
"And?" he said after a minute.  
  
"Just give me a minute," Abby said. "I'm trying to compose a suitable eulogy."  
  
Luka got up and hurried out, returning a moment later with the case of beer. "Maybe this will help?"  
  
Abby looked at the case. She really had not wanted to do this. But Luka was clearly going to be pretty drunk before the afternoon was out. No harm in joining him. Just this once. She took a bottle and opened it, took a long swallow. He was right, it did help.  
  
She took the first fish out of the bowl and held it by the tail, suspended over the toilet.  
  
"Ok ... ummm ... " she made her voice sound serious and solemn -- tough to do with Luka looking like he was about to burst out laughing any second now. "We are here to mourn the passing of ... ummm ... Ledem ..." And Luka _did_ burst out laughing. "What?" Abby protested.  
  
"Jedan," Luka corrected, wiping his eyes. "And I think that one is actually Tri."  
  
"Whatever. Do I want to know what I said?"  
  
"Leden. It means ... ummm ... icy."  
  
"Appropriate, I think."  
  
Luka just leaned back comfortably against the wall. "So, go on."  
  
Abby took another long swallow from the bottle and went on. "The passing of Jedan, who ... ummm ... was a good fish, even though he never fetched the newspaper and, thankfully, never tried to sleep in anyone's bed. He never peed on the carpet, or scratched the furniture. And he never complained about his life in a fishbowl.  
  
"We now commit the body of Jedan to the Chicago Sewers ... but we know that his fishy spirit is happily swimming in some heavenly coral reef."   
  
She let the fish drop into the toilet, and flushed. "Your turn."  
  
"Oh no! I'm having much too much fun listening to you."  
  
"Come on, Luka, they're _your_ fish. This is straining my creative abilities."  
  
"Ok." Luka gave an exaggerated sigh, and picked up the second fish. He began to talk. In Croatian.  
  
"No fair," protested Abby. "How do I know what you're saying."  
  
"You don't. You'll just have to trust me. I assure you that it is a truly moving and heartbreaking eulogy, and that the congregation is wailing and sobbing." He returned to speaking in Croatian, in a profoundly 'moving' tone of voice. One that, Abby thought, made Carter's rendition of 'Hamlet' sound almost understated. He spoke for another minute or so, then dropped and flushed. And grinned at her. "Trust me, Abby," he said again. "It was a touching eulogy."  
  
By the they got to the last fish, they were both laughing too hard to continue. Luka could hardly get out his second Croatian eulogy through fits of laughter. Abby was on her fourth beer. She'd lost count of how many Luka had had.   
  
It really was too bad about the fish, she thought, but she hadn't had this much fun in ages. Certainly not since she and Luka had broken up. She looked at him for a minute. It was good to see him having a good time too. Good to see him smiling, hear him laughing.   
  
And Lordy ... he _did_ look good, she thought. Most men looked straggly and unkept with a 3 day growth of beard. But Luka looked terrific. He always did.  
  
Abby suddenly trembled a little, but not from the cold. The relationship had had it's problems from the start. They really didn't belong together, were _not_ a good couple. But one part of the relationship had always been good .... 'Stop it, Abby,' she told herself again. 'What is wrong with you? It's the beer talking, not you.' They could be friends now, she knew. Not a damn thing wrong with being friends. She didn't _want_ him anymore!  
  
"Something wrong?" Luka asked, interrupting her thoughts. And she realized that she'd stopped laughing, stopped smiling.  
  
"No, I'm fine. I guess we're done here?"  
  
"Yup. Cetiri has been sent to his eternal rest."  
  
The room was getting dark. It was getting late. "I guess we should see about supper, then?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess so."  
  
With his injured arm, Luka couldn't even strike a match, so Abby lit the candles and started the fire for supper. Canned soup again, and coffee, and toast, made in a pan this time. And, for Abby, another beer.  
  
Luka frowned a little, looking at the bottle. "Haven't you had enough?"  
  
"I've had less than you," she reminded him. "A lot less. Besides. We'll be going to bed soon. We'll stay warm." Let the beer talk. Would she listen? "How's your arm?"  
  
"It still hurts some." He hesitated. "I think you were right. I think I did break something. But it'll keep."   
  
He wasn't smiling anymore. Abby kicked herself for bringing up the subject. "Come on, Luka, what _did_ you say about the fish. What were you saying in Croatian?"  
  
And he smiled again, leaned back in his chair. "I praised his beauty ... his kindness ... his beautiful brown eyes ... how pretty he looked when he smiled ...." And Abby felt herself blushing. Then Luka laughed. "Actually, the first one was the Croatian national anthem. The second was another passage from Hamlet."  
  
"You cheated!" Abby said, laughing. "Not fair, not fair!"  
  
"But it was beautiful. You can't deny that it was beautiful."   
  
Abby could only laugh, and look at Luka's face, smiling in the warm candlelight. 


	9. Chapter 9

Daylight. Too much daylight. Even through her closed eyelids, there was too much daylight. Her head hurt. Her mouth tasted of stale beer. She would get up and brush her teeth, but that would require moving, and Abby didn't think she could do that quite yet.   
  
She was also cold. No ... the front half of her was cold, but her back was pleasantly warm. The only pleasant thing about her at the moment.   
  
Abby shifted slightly in bed, and suddenly realized why the front half of her was cold. Previous nights she had slept in her nightgown and coat, and had managed to stay tolerably warm. This morning though, she was naked. Unless you counted her socks.  
  
Opening her eyes a crack, she saw her clothes in a heap on the floor beside the bed. And Luka's clothes were there too. And her back was warm because Luka was spooned against her. Too obviously naked as well.  
  
No. Damn, damn, damn, damn _damn_!!!!   
  
They hadn't. Had they? She couldn't have been that stupid. But no, as the alcohol-fog (or rather, the post-alcohol-fog) cleared a little, she remembered. Not everything, but enough.   
  
Abby shifted position again, suddenly even more uncomfortable than ever. Luka mumbled something in his sleep, his breath warm against her neck. She tried to scoot away from him, but the edge of the bed was too close. Her only option would be to get up, but the room was freezing. The movement was, however, enough to wake Luka. She felt him stir and he said, "Good morning." His voice was the warmest thing in the room. He reached over for an awkward one armed hug, but Abby sat up quickly.  
  
"Please tell me we didn't do what I think we did," she said.  
  
"Unless we both had the same dream, I think we did." Luka sat up too, his smile vanishing rapidly under a look of surprised hurt. The expression on her face was obviously not what he was expecting to see the morning after.   
  
Abby wasn't sure what to say next. Then it popped out. "How could you? You knew I didn't want this!"  
  
"Didn't want? You were a pretty enthusiastic participant, as I recall."  
  
"I was drunk! You should have known better. You should have known I didn't want it." This had to be someone else's fault, she thought.  
  
"I was drunk too."  
  
"So, that's your excuse? You can do whatever you want, and then blame it on being drunk?"   
  
"So ... what are you saying, Abby? That you aren't responsible for _your_ actions while drunk, but I have to not only be responsible for mine, but I have to be able to read your mind as well? I distinctly remember you starting it."  
  
Abby didn't answer, just grabbed her robe and slid out of bed into the bitter cold of the room. She couldn't look at him.  
  
"Abby ..." He sounded hurt now, not angry. "Can we talk about this like reasonable people?"  
  
"I have to pee, not surprising after all I drank last night." Abby's voice was short. She went into the bathroom and shut the door. She didn't need light to find the toilet. But what she wouldn't give for a hot shower.   
  
She sat on the toilet and tried to think. Luka was right. She _had_ started it. She had let the beer talk; let the beer act. How many had she had after dinner? Neither of them had stopped until the case was empty, and she'd done more than her part in emptying it.   
  
Both of them had been pleasantly drunk -- or more than pleasantly drunk, before the candles had finally burned out. She had done it intentionally, though she hadn't admitted it to herself at the time. If she was drunk, she _wouldn't_ be responsible. She could do what she'd been wanting -- though she hadn't admitted that part either -- for days. She could get what she wanted, and, by making Luka feel a little better too, get rid of a little of the guilt over his injured arm. And none of this would be her fault. She could blame it on the beer. Or on Luka.   
  
But still, it would be nice, she thought, if she could actually _remember_ some of it. If she was going to destroy any hopes she might have had of being able to stay friends -- being able to actually look him in the face again -- she might at least be able to remember the enjoyable parts. But the beer had done its job too well. There were only fragments of memories of last night.  
  
Of them laughing too hard over too much beer. Of her throwing herself at him in a way that she'd never done before (but then, she'd never been drunk ... _before_). She'd never drank at all when they'd been together). Of Luka's pleased reaction, and of him asking (yes, he _had_ asked, he had been more responsible than she was), if she was sure she wanted to do it. Of them crawling into bed and undressing under the covers. Of giggling together as Luka had tried to do his part one-handed.   
  
She remembered all that. But the actual event -- the pleasure she knew had been there (she knew what sex was like with Luka, she knew she must have enjoyed it!); that had been swallowed up by the booze.  
  
Damn ... damn ... _damn_.   
  
Abby sat in the bathroom for as long as she could get away with, then reluctantly returned to the bedroom. Luka hadn't stirred from the bed. He would probably need her help getting himself dressed.   
  
"I just realized," he said slowly. "I think we forgot something a little bit important last night. We got a little carried away."  
  
Abby shrugged. "I'm still on the pill. Not that I expected to be needing it just this moment. So, unless Nicole gave something interesting that I should be concerned about ..."  
  
"I doubt it."  
  
"Then don't worry about it." Her voice was still short. She still couldn't really look at him.  
  
"Are you still mad at me?" Luka asked.  
  
"I'm not mad." Abby was pulling her clothes on.  
  
"Was I so terrible last night?"  
  
"No, it was fine." At least she assumed it had been. "It was just ... stupid."  
  
"We were both there, Abby. So, if it was stupid, we were _both_ stupid, right? Neither one of us can blame the other." He hesitated. "But I don't think it was that stupid ... except for the missing condom, anyway. I think it was something we both wanted. And I think we need to think about why we both wanted it."  
  
Abby didn't answer again. She put her coat on and said, "I'll go get breakfast started. Go ahead and get dressed. Yell if you need help with anything."  
  
"No breakfast for me. Just coffee."   
  
Breakfast didn't sound good to Abby either. But coffee, most definitely. 


	10. Chapter 10

[So, this is a really short chapter after such a long wait. It's sort of a transitional chapter. Things will start to wrap up in the next one ... which should be posted a little more promptly.]  
  
-------------  
  
Abby heard footsteps behind her. "This is the last of the instant coffee," she said, not turning around.  
  
"We're lucky I had any at all. I usually don't drink the stuff, but Nicole bought a jar for some reason. I meant to throw it out after she left."   
  
"Well, at least we have a little left for medicinal purposes," Abby joked. She started to reach for a mug, to pour Luka's coffee, then froze as an arm draped over her shoulder, and a chin rested on top of her head. Her head nestled comfortably into the curve of his throat It was a perfect fit, and made Abby want to scream. But she just said, "Do you mind?"   
  
Luka sighed and stepped backwards, and Abby quickly poured his coffee and handed it to him. "Are you sure you don't want to eat anything?" she asked.  
  
"Not right now." Luka warmed his hands around the cup. "Can we talk about this?"  
  
Abby didn't answer. She pretended to warm her own hands over the dying fire, looked out the window. Nothing had changed outside. Ice still coated everything, and they still might have been the only people alive in the city. The sky was gray again this morning. She poured her own coffee.  
  
"We really should see about getting that arm looked at. There must be some way of getting you to the hospital. We could call County ..."  
  
"The battery is dead in my cell phone," Luka said. "There's no way to make a call. But it's ok. It doesn't hurt any more than yesterday, and neuro function is still fine in my hand." He paused, sipped his coffee. "So ... about last night?"  
  
Abby shook her head. "There's nothing to talk about. We both got drunk, lost control and did something really stupid. It's done, it will never happen again, and there's nothing more to say about it. Now, let me enjoy my hangover in peace, ok?" She took her coffee to the armchair and sat down. Luka, to her relief, took the couch. It was hard to know if the pained look in his eyes was from his own hangover, his arm, or something else.  
  
For a few minutes they drank their coffee in silence. Abby desperately wanted to go home. Facing Brian again would be a picnic compared to this.  
  
"I didn't lose control, Abby," Luka finally said quietly. "I was drunk, but not that drunk. I thought you wanted it. I thought ... something had changed."  
  
"Nothing has changed." Abby's voice was short and crisp. She kept her eyes on her cup. If she looked at Luka, he would know she was lying. Because things _had_ changed, just not in the way he seemed to think. Things were worse. Much worse.  
  
"So you're going to tell me that you had no idea what you were doing? That you were totally out of control?"  
  
"I was drunk; really drunk. What do you think?"   
  
Luka didn't answer for a minute. "I think that you knew exactly what you were doing. I know that I've never seen you get drunk before. You never used to drink at all. So, I think you got drunk on purpose ... and not just because of the damn fish."  
  
"You started the drinking business, don't forget. You're the one who turned the stupid funeral into an Irish wake. I mean ... I couldn't let you drink alone, could I? And besides, you aren't exactly famous for your control, are you? Didn't you say that the thing with Nicole 'just happened?' So maybe last night 'just happened' for you too."  
  
Luka looked pained again, and didn't answer. 'Touche,' Abby thought, but somehow it didn't make her feel any better. She rose and went back to the grill for more coffee; then remembered that there wasn't any more. No more coffee. No more beer. No more cigarettes. Not even a shower. And who knew how many more days trapped in this apartment with Luka.  
  
She picked up the radio and turned it on, and tried to hear the weather report through the static. The battery wouldn't last much longer. And neither would she. 


	11. Chapter 11

The weather report was promising. Temps expected to be in the mid-20's by afternoon; a few major streets were already passable, and power expected to be back in most of the city by tomorrow morning.   
  
There was, however, not much more that was promising. Abby reported the news to Luka, who just nodded and grunted. "Good." Since that time, neither had said another word. Abby just sat, unable to think of anything to say. Luka was pacing the living room, had been doing so for the past half hour. She thought he looked pale; couldn't help worrying about him.   
  
"Your arm really hurts, doesn't it?" she finally asked.  
  
"It's fine!" Luka snapped. "It will be ok."  
  
"My phone still has a charge. I could call County, or 911. Or maybe your neighbor ..."  
  
"I said it's fine!" Luka repeated firmly. "It will keep. It sounds like we'll be able to get out sometime tomorrow." A faint smile. "My headache is at least as bad as my arm right now, and I don't think County can do much for a hangover." A sigh. "I'm going to go lie down for a while." Then, dripping with sarcasm. "Don't feel that you're under any obligation to join me."   
  
"I'll wake you for lunch," Abby said, ignoring the last remark, or at least trying to. She hated seeing him so miserable.  
  
Luka paused at the bedroom door. "How are we doing for food?"  
  
"Besides the coffee, we're ok. Only 4 more JAMAs though."  
  
Luka disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Some of the tension immediately left the air, and Abby felt herself relax a little. But just a little.  
  
Why had they spoiled everything? Those first few weeks after the break-up had been awful -- awkward, strained. Now they were just about friends again. They'd been able to laugh together, have fun together. They could have been friends again, but they'd ruined it.   
  
Not only that, but she'd fallen off the wagon. Hard. Oh, she'd been drinking for a while now, but not really _drinking_. It had been under control. _A_ drink. Or a couple. But yesterday, she'd gotten drunk; very drunk. And not because of the fish. Not because of Luka. But because she'd wanted to. Because she liked what the alcohol did to her.  
  
Well, after the ice melted, she would go to a meeting. At least that mistake was one she had some hopes of fixing. But the other one ...  
  
"What do you want, Abby?" she asked herself aloud. No, the real question was, _who_ did she want?  
  
Did she really want Luka? She had certainly wanted him yesterday ... last night. Just as she had wanted him that day in the ambulance bay, when she had kissed him, and pretended it was an accident. Just as she'd pretended that last night was an accident, beyond her control. The beer talking.   
  
But no, it wasn't really the same. Last year she had hoped that the kiss would start something real. A relationship. And it had. Last night, she had not been thinking past last night.   
  
She and Luka had had something good. Sex. The sex had always been good. She loved his body, she loved the way he could make her feel. And she loved the way people looked at her -- at them, when they were together. How had someone like her, plain-Jane Abby, a nurse, an alcoholic, a failed medical student with a failed marriage behind her, managed to hook a guy like Luka? A doctor; handsome, smart, sensitive, well-off.   
  
But, did she love him? Could she ever love him? Did she want the man inside the package? The relationship she had hoped for that day in the ambulance bay ... had it ever really happened? They'd never really connected, she had to admit, not in ways that mattered. How often had she refused his help? How often had she failed to tell him what she really wanted? What she really needed? And how often had she blamed him for trying to help -- or not knowing what she needed? People in relationships helped each other, and were glad to do it. People in relationships talked to each other.  
  
Did she really want him? Was she willing to do what it took to have him? Really have him?  
  
Or, did she want Carter? He would be a prize too. He was also handsome and understanding -- and unquestionably wealthy. And he wanted her, that she knew. But she also knew that he would never make the first move as long as he knew -- or suspected -- that she still wanted Luka.   
  
Abby had to smile a little to herself. There were advantages to being married, she thought, even to an asshole like Richard. When you were married, relationships were simple. Which was probably why she'd married him in the first place. With all the chaos in her life, she'd needed ONE thing that was simple. Misery was fine, as long as it was simple.  
  
Luka wanted her, that much was clear. And he would do whatever it took to have her again. He would even allow her to make him miserable again, over and over. But she wouldn't do that to him, or to herself. She'd had enough of misery.  
  
Oh, if only she were the kind of woman who could go for meaningless sex. If she was, she would go back to Luka in a heartbeat. She would get the sex, enjoy the sex. Or, at least, she could forget about last night, call it a stupid mistake and move on. But she'd never been that kind of person. (Well, unless you counted the last few months of her marriage. That sex had been meaningless enough. Beyond meaningless. And that had taught her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it wasn't something she wanted in her life again.)  
  
Abby sighed. She'd messed up her own life, at least the parts of it that hadn't messed up themselves. She'd blown her relationship with Luka. But at least she could be honest with herself. She'd blamed Luka far too often for things that weren't his fault.   
  
Would anything happen for her with Carter? If it did, would she ruin that one too? Would she make him miserable? Who could say. She'd cross that bridge another day. But right now, she could try to salvage what she _could_ have with Luka. She could take responsibility for her own life, her own mistakes. And, just a little bit, for Luka.   
  
Abby turned on her cell phone. The power icon showed a small charge. Enough for a couple of calls, anyway. 


	12. Chapter 12

[So, this is a pretty short chapter. I was hoping to wrap everything up with this chapter, but it's not coming together as I'd hoped. So you get the first part of it, and I struggle on with the remainder and will (with luck), get that finished and up in the next few days. Thanks for your patience.]

A knock on the door. "Come in?" Luka could hear the strain in his own voice. Three extra-strength Tylenol had blunted the hangover-headache, but hadn't touched the pain in his arm. There _was_ more alcohol in the kitchen cupboard, he knew; half a bottle of vodka. But he knew that he shouldn't drink any more -- and he definitely shouldn't drink enough to make a dent in the pain. He'd had enough.   
  
Luka really didn't want Abby's company just now, but he couldn't exactly tell her that she couldn't come in. She opened the door and came in, and sat on the bed beside him.   
  
"Feeling any better?" she asked.  
  
Luka shrugged. "Not really. What do you want?" God -- did he really just say that?   
  
"The ambulance will be here in about an hour. With the weather and all, it's going to take a while."  
  
"I told you I didn't need an ambulance!"  
  
"So ... what then? You're going to walk to the hospital? It would probably take about as long, but a nice heated ambulance will be a lot more comfortable."  
  
"It can wait. I told you it's not that bad." It really wasn't, Luka told himself again. And there probably wouldn't be much they could do for him anyway, except put it in a sling, which he already had.  
  
"Fine," Abby said, sounding about as irritated as he did. "When they show up, _you_ can tell them that they made the trip out here for nothing." Her voice softened a little. "Come on, Luka, be sensible. The longer it goes untreated, the greater the risk of permanent damage, and the greater the chance that you'll need surgery."  
  
Luka shook his head. "I don't think that's an issue. It's probably an olecrannon fracture, with no displacement. That doesn't need surgery."  
  
"And you diagnosed that how? With your x-ray vision?" Abby sighed. "The ambulance is coming; take it or leave it. I'm going to hitch a ride in whatever _you_ decide to do. County has power. If I have to go another day without a hot shower and real coffee, I'm going to go nuts."  
  
'Yeah', thought Luka. 'Not to mention the insanity-inducing factor having to spend another day here with me.' But he just said, "Fine. If it will make you happy, I'll go. But they probably won't be able to do much for me."  
  
"They can get you some pain killers. That should be worth the trip."  
  
"I'm not in that much pain," Luka insisted.  
  
"Liar." Abby smiled a little, and Luka had to smile back.   
  
"It isn't ten out of ten," he said.  
  
"Just a nine?"  
  
"And a half." He got up and went to look out the window for a moment. "Did you talk to County?"  
  
"Yeah, for a few minutes."  
  
"How are things there?"  
  
"I talked to Chuny. Things are quiet, they've just had a few patients over the past couple of days. They're all going a little stir-crazy, and will be thrilled for the chance to work on your arm."  
  
"I'm sure that once the weather breaks, they'll be flooded with patients."  
  
"All the more reason to get in now ... before the spring rush."   
  
Abby didn't say anything more, and Luka couldn't think of anything to say either. He just looked at her. She looked about as miserable as he felt right now.  
  
He'd ruined everything, of course. For the second time. If he hadn't rushed into it, made assumptions ... maybe they could have had something again. They were getting along well, having fun together -- at least as much fun as could be had under the circumstances. Maybe if he'd taken it slowly they could have picked it up again, had something good again.  
  
She had wanted him. She was the one who had asked him out that first time, had kissed him the first time, had come to his room the first time. And he had screwed it up. He hadn't been able to make the relationship work, no matter how hard he had tried.  
  
And last night? What had she wanted then? Why didn't he know? Surely he should have been able to guess, but he hadn't. And he'd spoiled everything again. He had always been able to understand Danijela. (Not that they hadn't had their fights, of course!) Why couldn't he understand Abby?


	13. Chapter 13

[Author's note: There are some references to Nicole in this chapter. The references are to the events as they occurred in my version of the story ("What Child is This") not TPTB's version.]  
  
Abby frowned. Luka seemed to be suddenly lost in thought.  
  
"Luka?"  
  
He looked startled. "What?"   
  
"Are you ok? You look a little spacy."  
  
"I'm fine. Just in pain, you know?" A hesitation, then, "I'm sorry Abby. You were right. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you last night. You were drunk, you didn't know what you were doing. I messed up ... I messed up everything." He didn't look at her.   
  
"No," said Abby quietly. "It wasn't your fault, and you didn't do anything wrong. You did exactly what I asked for; exactly what I wanted you to do ... what I wanted us to do."  
  
"You were too drunk to know what you wanted. I should have been able to see that."   
  
"I wasn't that drunk. I knew exactly what I wanted. I got drunk because I wanted to. And we had sex because I wanted to."  
  
A surprised, hopeful look. "So ... it was ok?"  
  
And Abby had to laugh a little. "Ok? No, it wasn't ok. It was really, really stupid. But it was_ my_ stupidity, not yours."  
  
"So, maybe it wasn't all that stupid. If you wanted it, and I did ... and it was good ...." A sigh. "We're good together, Abby. I know these last few days have been rough, but they'd be rough for anyone."  
  
"We're good in bed," Abby said. "But that's all. We have good sex, but there has to be more than that."   
  
"I care for you, Abby. I like being with you."  
  
"But I don't!" The words, blurted out, startled even Abby. Luka winced, and a look of pain crossed his face. '_Stupid, Abby. That was a really stupid thing to say. Can we stop being stupid now?'_ she thought. The idea here was not to hurt Luka more. She shook her head. "I didn't mean that. I like you, but we don't belong together. You have to be able to see that. You deserve better than me."   
  
"But Carter doesn't?"   
  
"This isn't about Carter."  
  
"Then what is it about?"  
  
"It's about me."  
  
"But not about us?"   
  
"There is no 'us.' There hasn't been for months."  
  
"So what was last night? You did want to sleep with me last night, right?"   
  
"Yes, I did. But it was a mistake. I knew it was wrong, but it did it anyway. Which still makes it my mistake, not yours."   
  
"So you were just horny then? Or maybe you were imagining that I was Carter."  
  
"Why do you keep bringing Carter into this?"  
  
"Because he's already here. He's always here."  
  
"I'm not with Carter. I don't want to be with Carter." Abby sighed again. "I'm not with anyone right now, and that's working fine for me. You know, Luka, we don't have to rush into relationships that don't work, just because you think it's better than being alone."  
  
"What do you know about being alone, Abby? I was alone for 8 years. Eight very long years. And I was with you for a year. I know which one I liked better."  
  
"Was it me, or was it just having someone to keep you warm at night? I mean, God, Luka ... the sheets were barely cold and you were suddenly screwing Nicole ... you were going to _marry_ her! And now she's gone, and you want me back again?"   
  
"Don't bring Nicole into this," Luka snapped.  
  
"You keep bringing Carter into it. And Nicole was real, Carter isn't. I have never been with Carter. You were very much 'with' Nicole. How long had you actually known her before you started sleeping with her?"  
  
"A few weeks," Luka said quietly. "And that was my mistake. But I would have made it right, Abby. I was going to marry her ... make her happy."   
  
"And make yourself miserable in the process? For all Nicole's faults, she did make the right decision here. She cared enough about you to not want to make you miserable. She knew you didn't belong together, and that the best thing she could do ... for both of you ... was to leave."  
  
"And abort my baby? You think that made me happy?"  
  
"No, of course not. But it was the only thing she could have done. And remember, she didn't want you to even know about it. She wanted you to believe that she hadn't even been pregnant. She did everything she could to not hurt you." Abby shook her head. "And I don't want to hurt you either, Luka. If we were together, you'd be unhappy. And I also care enough about you to not want to see you unhappy."  
  
"Do I look happy now?"  
  
"You look like you're in pain from a broken arm and a hangover," Abby said with a slight smile. Then, more seriously, "No, you don't look happy. And if it's because of last night, I'm sorry. But if it's because of 'us' in general ... I can't fix that. We don't belong together," she said again. "I was never really happy when we were together, and neither were you. We're doing pretty good as friends, Luka. I would really like for us to be friends now. Can we do that?"  
  
"I don't know," Luka said softly. "Can we?"  
  
"You mean, after last night's screw up?"  
  
"I mean, we're obviously still attracted to each other. Can we be friends without that getting in the way?"  
  
"We can try, can't we?"  
  
"Yeah, we could. Or we could try being together again." Abby started to protest, but Luka went on quickly. "I would do anything for you, Abby. I beat Brian Westlake to a bloody pulp for you!"   
  
Abby was startled, both by the words and by the sudden fierce look in his eyes. The police had told her that someone had beaten Brian up that night. But she'd never really thought it could have been Luka. Though, it certainly made sense ...  
  
"I didn't ask you to do that," she said.  
  
"How could I not do it? Was I supposed to just let him hurt the woman I love?" 


	14. Chapter 14Conclusion

Love. In all the months they'd been together, he'd never said that word. And neither had she. If he _had_ said it, would it have made a difference? Lord knows he'd shown it often enough ... and she'd rejected it almost every time. No wonder he'd been afraid to say it. How often can one man stand to be rejected?

Luka was still talking quietly. "I risked everything for you, Abby. I told Brian that if he ever hurt you again ... ever even touched you again, that I would kill him. And I meant it. I meant every word."

Abby shook her head. "What do you want me to say, Luka? That I'm grateful? The police _did_ have things under control, you know. Is this some sort of fairy tale? Where the gallant Prince Luka slays the dragon, and so wins the hand of the fair Princess Abby?"

"I don't mean that. I just ... want to be with you again."

"Couldn't be with me if you were doing time for murder."

"What did I do wrong?" Luka interrupted. "Tell me what I did, and I'll make it right."

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's not about you, or about Carter. It's about me. I didn't love you. I can't." Abby smiled a little. "I don't think I've ever loved anyone, not in a good, healthy way. I don't think I know how to love."

"Not even Richard?"

"Especially not Richard."

"But you married him."

"And you were going to marry Nicole." Abby sighed. "I don't know why I married Richard. No, that's a lie. I do know why. He made me feel safe; protected. He was a resident with a bright future. I was a nursing student with a miserable past and an almost as miserable present. My life was chaos, Luka. You've met Maggie, you can imagine what it was like. I was ..."

Abby trailed off. She wasn't going to tell Luka that she'd been drunk the day she'd accepted Richard's proposal. That she'd been drunk the day of the wedding, had gotten utterly wasted at the reception, and had spent the first few hours of the honeymoon throwing up in the bathroom. And that she'd been drunk nearly every day for the first few years of the marriage, using alcohol to numb her own pain. Until she'd finally realized that alcoholism was its own pain. Until she'd dried out in hopes of making the marriage work, making her life work, but by then it had been too late. For the marriage and, maybe, for her life.

"I was miserable, Luka," she finally said. "During those 8 years when you were alone and miserable, I was married to Richard, and we were making each other miserable. I don't want to do that to _you_."

"You could never make me miserable. But I'm not asking you to marry me, Abby. Just to try again. To see if we can make it work. I'm willing to do whatever it takes. Neither of us is seeing anyone else ..."

"It wouldn't make a difference. There's nothing you can do differently, because there was nothing you did wrong the first time. It would just waste both our time. I mean, what are you offering me? The chance to feel safe? Protected? Someone who will save me from my horrible life? I've done that one already, with Richard. It was a mistake the first time. I'm _not_ going to make that same mistake twice.

"Besides ... the problems in my life right now have nothing to do with my mother, or Brian. They have to do with me -- and nobody can save me from that ... protect me from that."

"I love you, Abby." Luka said again, a little desperately. "That's never changed. When I was with Nicole ... I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I was trying to make you jealous ... hurt you a little because you'd hurt me. Or maybe I was just trying to forget you. But it didn't work. I was only going to marry her because of the baby, you know. I never would have loved her ... never would have stopped loving you."

"I'm not in charge of your feelings. I can't make you stop loving me ... but I can't give myself to you just because you love me. We'd both be unhappy, and you know it."

Luka was silent for a long minute. Finally he said slowly, "So ... where do we stand?"

"Friends? I'd really like to be friends. We can be good, I think, as friends. And who knows. Maybe, sometime, when we're both different people than we are now, we'll both want something different. But not right now. And I'm not going to just sit around waiting for that time to come, and neither should you."

Abby heard the faint wail of a siren in the distance.

"Ambulance is coming," Luka said quietly.

"Yeah. So ... are we friends then?"

"If that's what you want." A beat, and an almost shy smile. "I think I'd like that." He sighed and rose. "Let's go. We can meet them downstairs." Then he grinned, the first real smile Abby had seen from him all day. "And if you think I'm going to lie on a gurney on the way there, you've got another thing coming."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Which brings us to the end of our little tale. I know some of you are disappointed that I didn't have them ride off into the sunset together. But the fic was intended, from the start, to slot neatly into the storyline given to us by TPTB. (With the only AU aspects being the minor changes to the Nicole stuff, and Luka's broken arm, which have no long-term consequences) So, since they didn't get back together in the aired version, I couldn't do it here. (Though I did leave things open for the future!) 

If you liked this one, go check out my other fics, if you haven't yet done so. (Even if you didn't like this one, go check out the others! They are quite different.)


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